


Chance of Rain

by shedrovemehere



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Multi, Seduction, Sweden mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: Kenny and Kota have to attend some sort of reception, and as one does, they decide to pass the time by trying to pick up a mutual crush of theirs. It’s just Kazuchika Okada, nbd. This takes place in timeline maybe around this year's G1?But the boys have recently gotten back together, so Kenny still has some residual shame peppered throughout this. Why did I write 4.5k words about it? Why did I choose the cheesiest possible title? Listen, no one’s making you read this.





	Chance of Rain

In a business where one is constantly surrounded by beautiful men, one must find some way to cope with the relentless handsomeness. That was how they’d gotten into this habit of surveying gatherings such as this one. If Kenny and Kota’s colleagues knew the things they discussed during such occasions, they’d probably be… well, they’d probably be unsurprised, actually. Not because they were particularly gross about it; mostly, it was because everyone could see that when they were together, they fed each other’s antics.

“That’s one of my favorite of Tana’s hairdos,” said Kota. Tana’s side-swept prom hair _was_ an achievement in attractiveness, but Kenny also knew that Kota was trolling heavily. Given his own ridiculous hair (which, of course, Kota seemed to love beyond any reason or sense, though Kenny could never fully believe it), Kenny was always a little self-conscious around hair _that_ immaculate. 

“Ugh. _Fine._ It looks really nice, okay?”   

Kota smirked a little and grasped Kenny’s forearm with equal parts triumph and sweetness. “I know it does. And it goes very nicely with that gray suit.”

“Oh yeah, I love him in gray.” Although the hair was a soft spot, Kenny would never try to deny how ethereally sexy Tana looked most of the time. He cast a gaze around. “Oh. Sanada.” 

“Mm.” Kota nodded approvingly, then turned his eyes to Kenny. "Hey. I see the wheels turning. Don’t even _think_ about a formal shorts look, Kenny. I love you, but you _cannot_.” 

Kenny was earnestly affronted; “I know not to wear shorts to a formal event!” He didn’t. “And I wasn’t getting any ideas.” He was. 

Kota looked appropriately unconvinced. “You’re right though; he looks _very_ good. And it’s not like _I_ could pull off formal shorts, so I probably shouldn’t talk.” 

Kenny thought that Kota could probably pull off any outfit he wanted, _he can certainly pull off my clothes anytime, heh_ , but not nearly so well as he pulled off _nothing_. That wasn’t for anyone else here, though. _That’s for me_. Kenny smiled thoughtfully at that, which Kota probably took to mean that he agreed about the shorts thing, but which _actually_ meant he’d been casually lusting after a man he already shared a bed with every night. He’d let Kota think that, though; he had to maintain some illusion of self-control in the face of Kota’s unjust physical perfection.   

They both let their eyes linger a little on Sanada, who was chatting with Naito on the other side of the room. Naito was a known quantity; they only needed to exchange one of two glances: _I can’t get past the hair_ or _I can definitely get past the hair._ Today they both chose the latter. 

They knew it was probably a little rude to treat their colleagues like this. Even so, discussion was largely PG-13 at worst, and never really veered anywhere it shouldn’t. Mostly, it was a way for them to flirt with each other in public while they prepared to leave the comfort of their little bubble for the evening. It wasn’t that either one of them was shy—no one would have ever accused them of that—it was just that while they loved their friends, nowhere else really compared to the bubble. They didn’t want to become weird and insular, even if weird and insular sounded really nice sometimes. 

In another corner of the room, Kazuchika Okada burst out laughing, as he did all the time, for a brief second drawing every eye in the room to him. He looked radiant with that breathless laughter illuminating his face, and luckily for anyone watching, this was a frequent occurrence. 

In tandem, Kenny and Kota sighed and looked at each other. At every event like this, most of their standing at the bar objectifying people they truly cared about was an exercise in avoiding that particular elephant in the room. Inevitably, inexorably, it was only a matter of time, and he _always_ looked devastating. Okada was the only one who ever got mentioned wistfully outside of these little events. Okada was the only one they’d surreptitiously text each other about when one of them was hanging out with him. Kenny couldn’t afford too much of a crush on his rival, although he did allow himself the occasional gushing about Okada’s perfect hair and face that he was supposed to hate but absolutely could not. But in order to maintain his sanity (and any chance of winning), he’d mostly ordained Kota to crush on Okada for the both of them, a burden Kota happily shouldered. 

“It’s probably about that time, eh?” Kenny chuckled. 

“I suppose,” Kota said with a smirk and an affected sigh. “He looks really, really good in that suit. He’s the only one of us who looks _better_ when he’s really sweaty.” 

“Mm.” Kenny disagreed (because Kota looked better sweaty too, of course), but just nodded, trying to remain in the shallow end of this particular pool given that he’d have to face Okada again pretty soon. 

“If you fight him to another draw, I might _actually_ die. I already felt like that last match happened specifically to give me some uncomfortable feelings.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I didn’t _try_ , Kota. Even _I_ wouldn’t go quite that far to troll you, although knowing it made you squirm makes the defeat—“ 

“—the _draw_ , Kenny.” 

“— _the draw_ a little easier to stomach.” Kota, Matt, Nick, even Kazuchika himself; _everyone_ kept reminding him it had been a draw. But Okada still left with his belt that night, historic championship reign in tact, didn’t he?

“You’ll beat him this time, Kenny-tan. I know you will.” Kota had this earnest look on his face that made Kenny feel simultaneously invincible and dirty. _He really fucking believes in me. Someone like him. He’d have beaten Okada several times over already._

“I hope I don’t disappoint you.” Kenny knew Kota hated that kind of talk (for several reasons), but he also couldn’t help but be honest with someone who was, after all, also his best friend. 

Kota grabbed Kenny’s chin roughly—not angrily, but like he didn’t care where they were. He waited until Kenny was willing to maintain eye contact, then said, “in the ring, you _never_ will. You _couldn’t_. You’re literally the best wrestler in the world—“ Kenny’s heart always soared when Kota said stuff like that, even if he couldn’t believe it— “but I don’t give a _fuck_ if you never win another match. Okay?” Implicit in that statement was: _there are plenty of ways you could disappoint me outside the ring. Maybe focus on those._ Or at least, Kenny mentally appended it there. 

Even though Kota had meant it to be a pep talk, the painful parts of their history were still raw enough to burn Kenny’s cheeks with shame. He wondered when _that_ would be over. But he hadn’t meant to derail the conversation, and wasn’t in the mood for being down on himself just now anyway; this was well-tread territory. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I never won again?” He smirked and touched Kota’s thumb with his tongue, so Kota took his hand off Kenny’s face. 

“The part of me that wants you to be happy wouldn’t, but the part of me that likes to win probably wouldn’t _hate_ it,” Kota laughed with no restraint, as though he hadn’t expected to crack himself up. “Which means now you’ll win every match just to spite me.” 

Kenny loved him so fucking much. “If spiting you were enough to push me to victory, I’d have held every major belt in the world by now. But we’re losing sight of the task at hand, here, Kota.”  

“Maybe you are; _I_ can do two things at once. For instance, I see our man Kazu has removed his suit jacket.”   

“Ugh. Those arms.” 

“I know. He’s just too beautiful for this world.” 

“Not for you.” It was a silly thing to say and Kenny hadn’t really meant to say it, but it had been a knee-jerk reaction to something he felt was factually incorrect. Now that he thought of it, though, if Kota was the most beautiful man Kenny had ever seen (he was), then Okada was at least in the top five. He felt a flash of jealousy, but couldn’t say why. 

Kota looked like he didn’t know what to say. 

Jealousy gave way to the idea of seeing two of the most attractive men in the world try to one-up each other. Preferably while sweaty. “How would you feel about actually trying it? I mean, it’s a terrible idea, but we always talk about it...”

“Trying it? Like flirting with him? Like getting him to come home with us?” 

“I want to watch you pick him up.” Kenny realized how salacious it sounded only as he said it. 

But Kota didn’t look puzzled or appalled as Kenny would have thought; _why am I still surprised when he’s like this?_ “It really is a horrible idea,” he said, but his tone made it clear that he was very much considering it. 

“Oh, yeah. It definitely is,” Kenny said, making no effort to sound dissuaded. “You could just talk to him until you were sure the effort would be successful. And I know you know how to increase the chances of that.” He also knew how Kota responded to challenges. 

Kota smirked. “You know if this goes badly I have to back out of re-signing, and you have to vacate your title so we can go live in Sweden and become goatherds.” 

Kenny stared faux-icily at Kota. “Best not fuck it up then, eh?” Kenny wasn’t usually so aggressive, and he could tell that gave Kota some feelings. He leaned in so his mouth was close to Kota’s ear, now whispering, “I want to see you make Kazuchika Okada lick his lips because of _you_. I want to see if he looks at your ass the same way I do, if his eyes are drawn to the same things mine are. I want to watch you be sexy and charming and irresistible until he’s hopelessly wrapped him around your little finger. I want him to be jealous when he looks over here and knows you’re coming home with _me_.” 

Kota was breathing a little more heavily than before. He proceeded to do that thing where he says something fucking hot while his eyes look soft and wide and so in love: “you're so _adorable_ , Omega; you know damn well _you're_ coming home with _me_.” 

That earned Kota a playful elbow in the ribs; Kenny knew he really _had_ meant it as lovingly as it was sexually charged. _Home_ was still a thing to be savored between them. They’d both been terrified, wary of every step, but it had been almost off-puttingly easy to get back into that groove of domesticity, much improved by growth and maturity. Sometimes Kenny got a little scared about how good their life together felt now, not suspicious, but achingly aware of how it sustained him, to the point where every reflection on his happiness contained a grain of fear of losing something wonderful. 

Kota’s eyes were still wide and loving, and he quickly reached down and squeezed Kenny’s pinkie. That little gesture was left over from their days of hiding and sneaking; stealing whatever small tokens of ownership they could. They didn’t have to hide anymore—everyone in this room knew about them, and no one cared. But the delicate politics of being in a relationship with someone in the public eye—and a coworker—meant that they still rarely showed much affection in public. Kota dropped Kenny’s hand, steeled his gaze, and took a deep breath, exactly like he was in the ring getting ready for the bell.

And in fact, watching Kota flirt  _was_ a lot like watching him fight—it filled Kenny with a mixture of reverence, envy, and gratitude; knowing that what others saw was just a fraction of how skillful he _really_ was. Every time Kenny heard commentators or reviewers gushing about Kota’s versatility, or his speed, or his raw strength, Kenny reveled in the knowledge only he was privy to: just how beautiful those muscles looked up close when they tightened under skin, or how he know how to temper his gentle hands with the perfect amount of delicious savagery. It was the same feeling as Kenny watched him sidle up next to Okada, his shy smile expertly chosen, every accidental brush of arm against arm strategically deployed. The ridiculous, maddeningly talented, heartbreakingly gorgeous Kota who captivated everyone was just a shadow of the Kota who belonged only to him. 

Kenny had made his way over to a table full of Bullet Club members, where he could fade in and out of the conversation as necessary without being obvious. Kota now crinkled his nose in laughter at some anecdote Okada was telling. Kenny could tell, Kota was not being manipulative or putting on airs, he was just letting himself be genuinely charmed by one of the most genuinely charming people Kenny had ever met. Earlier in their relationship, this could have ended badly: Kenny would get jealous knowing that Kota was flirting in earnest with a legitimately wonderful human being, and Kota would petulantly twist the knife in indignation at Kenny’s behavior. Now, having gone through the horrible slog they had and come out on the other side, they could ensure enough trust between them to do something like _this_ for fun.

Kenny watched Okada’s eyes watching Kota absent-mindedly stroke his glass with one fingertip as he spoke, rubbing little patterns into the condensation on the outside of the glass. Okada realized what he was staring at and brought his gaze back to Kota’s face. They were standing at a tall bar table, and now Kota put a hand on Okada’s bicep to gently bring their faces closer together so they could hear each other. He left it there for several moments longer than were necessary. He now brought his mouth up to Kazuchika’s ear, and Kenny thought he saw Okada shut his eyes when Kota’s breath hit the side of his face. This had all been a way for Kota to believably get close enough to lean his right thigh on Okada’s left. First for a moment, then firmly, leaving knee touching knee. Okada looked down as if distracted, but he didn’t pull his leg away like one might if worried about encroaching on another’s space. Now the two talked more intensely, their thighs pressed together seemingly deliberately. Kenny could see that Kazuchika was getting more and more distracted and Kota was getting more and more deliberate about being distracting; softly biting his lower lip, gently running his fingers over his throat, laying a hand on Okada’s shoulder. Just like in the ring, no movement wasted, and every one calculated and precise. Now, Okada flicked his eyes up quickly and searched the room for Kenny. Kenny had looked away just in time to appear unaware, and he felt triumphant, that little nervous peek meant _everything_ ; guilt about whatever Okada was thinking was plain on his face. 

Kota seemed to be asking if he could buy Kazu a drink, and Kazu seemed to be agreeing. As Kota walked away, Okada quickly scanned the room again, then just _stared_ , not even making an effort to hide the way he was biting his lower lip. Kota, of course, expected this, and made sure he stood in such a way as to make his butt look extra cute; holding his suit jacket in one arm and rolling up his shirt sleeves. There was something about watching him stand at the bar, deliberately being a tease, that made Kenny squirm in his chair a little. They weren’t kids anymore; by this point if he’d gotten hard every single time Kota was sexy, he wouldn’t have time to eat or sleep. But watching Kazuchika Okada watch him, seemingly heedless of anyone who might notice? Watching Kota make sure Okada had something nice for his troubles? All at Kenny’s request? Yes, that was worth feeling lightheaded and stupid and not being able to stand up for a few minutes. It was just as well; all he wanted to do right now was go over to where Kota was, wrap his arms around his waist from behind, and press himself as hard as he could against that perfect ass, burying his face in Kota’s neck to let him know it was time to go home. Probably no one would have noticed or cared. But he was ready to be patient for the task at hand. He _had_ asked for this, after all. 

Kenny wasn’t a possessive person, but he couldn’t help staring, probably just as clumsily as Kazuchika was, and thinking _mine_. Now Kota glanced over to where Kenny was sitting, and for all Kenny would have expected to see a triumphant, wicked look in his eyes, instead he saw _am I doing okay?_ Kota had enough sheer data by now to know that he almost _never_ needed to worry about whether he’d be successful in picking someone up; he was annoyingly confident about it sometimes. So Kenny knew he wasn’t actually worried about his performance; in this case, that look meant _don’t worry; I’m still yours_. Kenny was at this point uncomfortably hard, but instead of making any allusion to that, he just smiled, because what else could he do? Kota smiled back sweetly, but didn’t let his gaze linger long. He had his eyes on the prize, too. 

Kenny glanced back over to Okada, and was startled to see that Kazu was staring at him. Licking his lips, eyebrows raised, knowing smirk on his face. _Uh oh_. Somehow Kenny had the presence of mind not to actually _look_ startled; instead he fixed his eyes on Okada, then glanced in Kota’s direction, then back, raising his eyebrows at his rival. _No point in pretending, if he can already tell what’s happening_. Okada smirkily pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, like _I see how this is_. He maintained eye contact with Kenny as he moved to a different tall bar table in a much more secluded part of the room. He took a seat and waited, no longer looking at Kenny, but instead staring intently at Kota, who was still waiting for drinks. 

“Hey Kenny, are you okay?” Matt was across from him with Nick and Marty, and apparently Kenny had been staring elsewhere for long enough that his absence in the conversation had been noted. 

“Yeah, sorry! I’m just kinda out of it, ya know?” Kenny smiled at his friends, hoping he’d done enough obligatory socializing to go back to being a creep in peace. “How were y’all’s flights?” Marty nodded to say “good,” and Matt and Nick began describing their various layovers and weird airplane meals. Kenny looked beyond them to see Kota just reaching the table Okada had relocated to. Okada pulled out a chair for Kota, accepted his drink, took a sip, then laid a hand across Kota’s forearm, looking straight into Kota’s eyes and bringing his face very close. Now Kota found that wicked little grin. 

“How’re you feeling about Tuesday?” Nick inquired innocently of Kenny. He didn’t seem to notice that Kenny had actually been staring past him, nor that he would have very much liked to continue doing so. 

“I’m ready. I’m amped. I’ve got this!” Kenny was proud of himself for having enough wherewithal to not make his leering too obvious. Marty started talking to Nick, and Kenny turned his attention back to the table where Kota was sitting with Kazuchika. Kota’s face was very close to Kazu’s ear, and Okada looked up to see Kenny watching him. Kenny stared, Kota turned to look, and gave Kenny a little eyebrow raise before turning his attention back to Kazu. Okada looked at Kenny a little longer before turning his gaze back to Kota. _I wonder what he thinks this is all about?_

Okada turned so his thigh was fully under the table, took Kota’s wrist, and moved Kota’s hand there. They were sitting in such a way that most people in the room couldn’t see what was happening, but of course, Kenny had a perfect view. _Ooh, rookie mistake, Kazu_. Kota, not liking to be out-seduced, softly dragged his fingertips up Okada’s inseam under the table, but kept chatting pleasantly otherwise. Kazuchika didn’t know it yet, but he was going to lose this one; Kota had an impressive ability to keep his cool in the face of being really turned on. Kenny was well-acquainted with this, of course, as he constantly looked for ways to trip Kota up, even as he suspected that that was exactly what Kota was going for. Okada bit his lower lip and turned his gaze to the ceiling. _You poor bastard._ It was truly a treat for Kenny to be both incredibly turned on and incredibly amused watching the notoriously-no-chill-having Okada try to remain calm while the most beautiful man in the world casually caressed his inner thigh and talked about work like nothing was happening. 

“Kenny.” Kenny snapped his attention back to where he certainly did not want it to be right now, much as he loved his Bullet Club brothers. Matt was staring at him with concern in his eyes. “Seriously, are you okay, man?” 

Kenny couldn’t help but watch Kota expertly troll Okada, sinking into the inane conversation as one sinks into a submission hold, still absent-mindedly moving his fingers right where Okada had put them. The two of them together were too fucking sexy; in another lifetime Kenny would have been insanely jealous and felt inadequate, but now he was just enjoying the show. Kenny snapped his gaze back to Marty and the Bucks, who now noticed he’d been staring past them, and turned their heads instinctively to see what he was looking at so intently. Luckily, Kazu and Kota didn’t see them. The three of them turned back to Kenny with shocked expressions. 

“Dude. What the _fuck_. What the fuck!” Matt was livid. Marty looked at Kenny, then back at Matt. 

“Kenny, _what the fuck_? Did you see…” Nick trailed off. Kenny felt bad that neither of them trusted Kota, despite all his assurances. It was totally his fault for blaming Kota for their split, when Kota had been the one who'd wanted to hang on, to make everything right. Kenny couldn’t bear it, at the time, and he’d told the Bucks (and himself) some story about Kota abandoning him to seek fortune in the US. By the time he’d grown up enough to tell them the truth, they’d developed a protective dislike for Kota, seeing firsthand how easily he could wreck Kenny with a few words or an unanswered phone call. Even though Kota had since proven many times how devoted he was to Kenny, even though Kenny was obviously the happiest he’d been since they’d known him, they couldn’t quite get the taste out of their mouths. They’d even been less excited than he’d hoped when he confided in them that he wanted to bring Kota to Canada so they could get married. _At least I know they’re not gonna say anything_. Kenny suspected they might be a little jealous; they clearly knew they were being unreasonable, but they’d been his constant support until he started working things out with Kota. They’d watched him suffer so much. “Dude, what are you going to do?” 

Kenny looked down at his hands on the table, not knowing what to say. He was trying not to laugh, because he was truly touched that they were so protective of him. But what could he tell them? They were Good Christian Boys, after all. He looked back up to three pairs of wide eyes, feeling very sheepish and also _get out of my way you’re making me miss this_. 

Marty had a little more savvy than the Good Christian Boys. “Kenny. You knew that was happening didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Kenny put his face in his hands, embarrassed and trying not to laugh too hard.

“You _did_ , didn’t you!? Kenny, you perv!” Marty rested his forehead on his hands and quaked softly with laughter. The Young Bucks were still stunned. 

“Look, you guys can give me shit about this later, okay?” Kenny couldn’t even look at them. Too many conflicting emotions, plus being very turned on, did not make for an articulate discussion. 

The Bucks finally snapped out of it, and Nick, trying not to laugh, asked, “do you still need us to sit here? Like is that part of the thing?” He said that like he really had no idea what was appealing about any of this, but was ready to help if he could. 

Kenny laughed. “No, no, I’m pretty sure my cover is blown. If you guys keep sitting here I’ll just be embarrassed _and_ amused _and_ uncomfortably turned on. 

“Fair enough,” said Matt, and the three of them got up to leave. Matt nudged Kenny with his elbow, and winked ridiculously. “ _Git some_ ,” he said in his most salacious voice. Marty and the Bucks gave Kenny some very conspicuous winks and thumbs-ups as they got up to leave. “But you call us if anyone needs their ass kicked, okay?” 

Kenny was truly grateful for them all, and also grateful that they were leaving. “You guys are too sweet… I mean… nice. Dammit. Fuck.” 

They laughed, then they left. Kenny wondered what he’d have to do in order to _ever_ live this down. Once he could stop laughing to himself, he brought his eyes back to Kota and Okada. They looked like the situation hadn’t really changed; Kota still being casually, maddeningly hot; Okada still not handling well something he’d brought on himself. Okada was preoccupied with trying not to jump out of his chair, so Kota stole a quick glance at Kenny, who smiled sweetly. Kota didn’t look away as he brushed his fingers gently but purposefully from the inseam up, tracing the seam and moving over the fly of Okada’s pants, ending with his hand on Kazu’s belt buckle. Okada leaned his head back in frustration and covered his face with his hands. Kenny had a gorgeous view of all of it. Kota leaned over and said something in Kazu’s ear. Okada nodded, in a daze. Kota got up, grabbed his drink, and calmly made his way over to Kenny. Okada leaned his elbows on the table, head in hands. 

“What did you decide, Ibutan?” Kenny smiled and put an arm around Kota’s waist. “Are we moving to Sweden?” 

“About that. We decided _you_ are getting a little too bossy these days. He noticed too. I told Kazu that I had _tried_ to tell you and you didn’t listen, and that I was getting _very_ worried. He offered to help me out.” Kota beamed like a kid with a fridge-worthy drawing. 

“When’s that going to be?” Kenny asked, wondering how much of this he would have to explain to those Good Christian Boys. 

“Are you busy on Thursday?” 

“I’m free as long as I’m done with _you_ by then,”  Kenny raised his eyebrows. 

“Well,” Kota smiled a huge, surprisingly dorky smile, "I guess you’d better come home with me, then." 


End file.
